I'd unknowingly watched the film of this story (or rather forgotten that I had when I bought this), so as I began reading it felt weirdly familiar. Once I'd finished and figured it out, I realised that, as ever, quite big chunks and elements were missing in that adaptation. But to speak about the book specifically, this is another that I'm really glad I read. It's my kind of story, with character-driven development in a small world. The wrangling that occurs between people and local factions is well-written and very relatable to many people, I'm sure. The feeling that you're living in a different time is evident, and the prose is beautiful. Without wanting to spoil it, there's a device in use which I don't clearly understand the reason for, which is perhaps why I don't remember it being in the film, though I haven't seen it for 6 years, so I may just have forgotten! It just felt out of place, but didn't detract from my enjoyment of the tale.

'The Bookshop' is a little story of an ordinary woman, Florence Green, in 1959 England with a little money. She decides to open a bookstore in a little village which has no bookstore. With a great deal of innocence and no savvy, she overcomes a number of obstacles - a bank loan, buying a run-down house, having no previous ties to the community - and opens her store. Tourists like the store!

It doesn't take long before a variety of village folk notice. The local Establishment (an aristocratic family) and nearby slacker businesses feel threatened by her store. Mrs. Gamart, a local who considers herself the local Art expert, does not want the bookshop. Local businesses resent her success. The other villagers are indifferent about the bookstore at best, and easily bought off by the haters to work against her at worst.

This novel is a soft-spoken indictment against the insularity of small village life. Ordinary people in the community are emotionally smothered with genteel soft pillows while the other villagers indifferently watch. It made me think of that scene in the movie 'The Time Machine' (1960) starring Rod Taylor where the Eloi sit on the bank of a river and calmly watch Weena drowning, mildly entertained. Nothing that loud or creepy actually happens in this little story, by the way.

Location location location! That said, the message is not everyone will want your brand of upgrade to their life. This story makes vividly clear what people need is not as easily accepted as what people want.

I loved this book so much. It was really a five-starrer! Until I finished it, and then I was so depressed, and I remembered that everything I'd ever read about the book before said: this is great, but boy, did it have to be so grim?

Grim enough, I guess, that I can't say I quite loved it, even though really I did love it. This is the third Penelope Fitzgerald book I've read and the second that I've loved, and I'm optimistic. She just has a knack like no one else for capturing wry little insular communities, in all their foibles and jargon. Even though nobody in the books is very happy, they still make me wish I worked at the wartime BBC and lived in an unnavigable fishing village. A little bit, anyway.

Her style is so canny and clear, a humor so unnaturally dry you almost miss it. A great line from this one: "Later middle age, for the upper middle-class in East Suffolk, marked a crisis, after which the majority became water-colourists, and painted landscapes." For something so slim that you could comfortably read it in an afternoon, there is an absolutely remarkable amount of reward. The preternaturally competent Gipping family, the very real poltergeist (!), the sea scouts, the palpable damp.

Of course, things have only gotten worse, cynically speaking. We know the bad ending is earned, because we live now decades later and see little evidence that anything more hopeful could ever take place. And indeed, Florence was already fresh out of any sort of encouragement back then. For instance, the novel is set so that our bookshop-keeper must have a fateful run-in with Lolita. It's briefly all rather uplifting, in a dark sort of way, until you notice that at no point does Florence herself seem to read Lolita. Nor, in fact, does Florence read any books at all.

Yet in conclusion…

December 9, 1959
Dear Mr Thornton,

A good book is the precious life-blood of a masterspirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life, and as such it must surely be a necessary commodity.

Yours sincerely,
Florence Green

I liked the premise but didn't like the end. I'm a hopeless romantic- cheering for the underdog.

Masterful writing - well worth a re-read. Don’t read it for the ending though.

Interesting. Good story. Difficult writing style though which had me re-reading passages wondering if I’d misunderstood the author’s intent. A movie is being made as I write this: I wonder if it will have the same ending?

Took me a long while to get into this story. Had the right amount of melancholy though.